Little Things She Loves

Breaking silence, her

voice, quiet hope to create

in her a pure heart.

 

Lullabies soothing

her angel hums, sings, cooing;

Preciously she sleeps.

 

Dreams of Heaven’s gates.

The warm morning music wakes.

Then she comes alive.

 

Spirit waves she knows.

Wraps melodies with laced bow;

gifts that leap and spin.

 

Sweet forehead kisses,

sweet dandelion wishes-

little things she loves.

 

In love every day

she falls, delights in the Way,

knowing Love Himself.

 

Knows her violin

sings her body from within;

her gifts from Heaven.

 

Sweet cider sips she,

warm, fuzzy inside, with glee;

smiles shine on her face.

 

Noon’s sun in her hair,

wind, warmth, breeze away her cares;

outside she is born.

 

A meadow green, bright.

Making good from bad, she writes;

pretty she makes it.

 

Pictures clear she takes:

leaves on trees, fog, hills, rocks, lakes;

brings the world her joy.

 

Evening; the sky dims.

Savory sweet, feeds her whims,

aliments her soul.

 

Underfoot, Earth silk

turns to wood. She sips warm milk.

She names her blanket

 

“Night”; still, quietly,

heart whispers of her day. She

appreciates it.

 

Breaking silence, her

voice, quiet hope to create

in her a pure heart.

 

Lullabies soothing

her angel hums, sings, cooing;

Preciously she sleeps.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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